All that was before
by TheMightyThora
Summary: Starting in 1883 the story follows Mr. Carson through his time at Downton Abbey with events both upstairs and downstairs. It can be seen as a prequel to the show, and as such does not contain spoilers regarding the storyline. There are, however, connections to the show such as mentioned events. Characters: from the show & my own creations
1. A New Footman

Downton Abbey, 1883

"Welcome back at Downton, Mr. Carson", the old butler said and shook his hand. Despite the grim look on his face, he spoke with a gentle voice: "Since you have worked here before, I expect you will not need to be shown around the house. If, however, you need anything, you can ask Lewis, the first footman."

"Thank you," Charles answered and turned to leave the butler's pantry. "Oh, and Charles," he said, now calling him by his Christian name as he was now a footman, "Servant's luncheon will be in ten minutes. I shall introduce you to the staff then." Charles gave him a nod and left the pantry.

It felt strange to be back. It had been so long, almost seven years ago, that he had left service as a hall boy. Nothing had changed as far as he could tell. He moved slowly towards the servant's hall, where some of the maids sat and talked.

"I think Harry made the right decision to leave service. Wouldn't you do the same?"

"I don't know about you, Maggie, but you had to be stupid not to leave to be with your true love."

"You have to be stupid to leave a position as footman to run away with a girl, who won't stay with him anyway."

He stood in the doorframe and watched the three young maids as they kept on talking. A fourth maid entered from the kitchen door and glanced at the three. "Flora, Lydia, Margaret, don't you have any work to do?" she said louder than had been necessary. The three looked up and one of them started to mumble: "We have just finished our work before luncheon."

"Alright then. You can use the time and set the table! We'll need an extra plate. The new footman arrived today", the fourth maid said. None of them had seem him yet standing there in the doorframe. "Really?" one of the maids at the table asked, "Have you seen 'im then? 's he good-lookin'?"

"You will be the judge of that", he said now and watched their eyes widen as they realised he had been standing there all the time. He took off the hat he was wearing and said: "Charles Carson, the new footman."

The maids giggled, the fourth maid, however did not. She looked at the others and said: "The table won't set itself and it's time soon." Lydia, Flora and Margaret raised from the table and started fetching the plates. Meanwhile the fourth maid came towards him and started to talk while watching the others. "I'm Ruth Owens, the head housemaid."

She didn't look much older than the others, but there was something about the way she walked and talked that made her look mature; something he could not say about the others. Some other maids entered the room and he moved slightly to the side to let them in. Slowly more and more people gathered around the table. Ruth pointed at a chair and said: "That' where Harry used to sit. It's your place now." Charles walked over to the chair and stood behind it like the others did, waiting for the butler to come. And elderly lady came in and made her way to the chair next to the butler's. She looked around and her gaze came to rest on him. "You must be the new footman."

He nodded. "My name is Charles Carson." She had a bitter look on her face. "We'll see whether you will stay long enough for me to try and remember your name. Mine is Mrs. Winding and you'd do better remembering that." Mrs. Winding was as charming as ever, he thought. She had said the exact same sentence when he had first arrived at Downton as a hall boy. He remembered her too well. She, however, had apparently forgotten him.

The door of the butler's pantry opened with a squeal and with heavy footsteps the butler came into the servant's hall. "Sit down, please", he said and took a seat himself. "Oh, before I forget", he said and jumped out of his chair, the others, who had just taken a seat, did the same, "We have a new footman. This is Charles."

* * *

><p>During luncheon he got to know most of the staff. That's when he realised how much had changed in those years. He knew nearly none of the people eating with him. He remembered the butler Mr. Young, whose name had only gotten more ironic over the years, as the face he looked at now was even older and more wrinkled than seven years ago. He definitely remembered Mrs. Winding and the cook Mrs. Hill was still ruling the kitchen.<p>

Lewis, a footman sitting next to him had turned to start a conversation. "After luncheon we'll find you a livery. Are you prepared for your first dinner?", he asked. There was something in his voice Charles didn't like, but it would be unfair to make any assumptions based on two sentences. As soon as Lewis had put the attention of the others to him, everyone looked at him in curiosity and asked questions.

"Tell me, Charles", Lawrence, one of the footmen said to him, "What have you done before coming here?" Lawrence was a tall man of about 30 years with dark hair that was so long it was amazing he hadn't been told to cut it off yet.

"Well, I used to work here before… as a hall boy", he said. Lawrence stared for a moment. "Is that you, Charlie? Charlie, the hall boy?" Charles smiled. He knew it would have been only a matter of time until Lawrence recognized him. His memory of course was a lot better than Mrs. Winding's. "What happened to that pimple faced boy with the bad haircut? Where have you been?" Lawrence asked smiling.

"It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you another time", he said, not daring to even mention what he'd been doing the past couple of years.


	2. The First Dinner

Charles stood there in his new livery, which he referred to as new mostly because he had never worn a livery, not because the livery he wore was in any way new. In fact, it was quite the contrary. Though it looked well cared for on the outside, you could see the years of usage on the inside of his clothes. Additionally the livery was a bit tight around his shoulders, so nervous as he already was, he was terrified it would rip if he didn't move carefully.

Although Lawrence had shown him how to do everything properly, it was still a bit of struggle to keep the plate he was carrying steady as well as remembering exactly what to do and when and how to do it. But he could manage, he tried to build himself up. On the outside he was calm and steady, on the inside, however, he was worn out, much like his livery. He could not let the family come to shame by representing them badly.

In front of him about ten people sat at the dinner table, of which he only recognized Lord and Lady Grantham, who sat on opposite sides at the middle of the large table. Next to Lady Grantham sat an elderly Lady, who he had guessed to be the Dowager Countess of Grantham, his Lordship's mother. Judging from Lady Grantham's facial expressions, which she tried to hide as best as possible, she was not at all amused by her company. The Dowager was a small and frail-looking woman, whose every move was slow and shaky, and every word she spoke was… well… depressing. Even Charles thought so, while listening to the dinner talk, despite thinking of himself anything but an optimist.

Lady Grantham to Charles' surprise tried to be polite by asking her: "Euphemia, my dear, I heard you went to visit our gardens today. Did you enjoy yourself?" She forced a smile on her face.

"There is no such thing as joy once you are my age, Violet. You will learn that once you are in my position", she answered.

Charles watched as the other footmen started serving the Dowager, then moved to Lord Grantham. Once Timothy, a shy chap of about 18 years, had served the Dowager it was his turn. He walked over, focused on his posture, keeping the plate steady. He leaned slightly forward and held the plate to the Dowager's side for her to serve herself. His hand was slightly shaking, but he could control it enough for no one to notice. The Dowager kept talking for a moment before turning to the plate. She helped herself, but extraordinarily slowly. His hand kept shaking, his body was tense. He tried to balance it out and hoped the Dowager would finish. Any time soon he would drop the plate, he felt it.

Just in time the Dowager turned back to Lady Grantham to say the most depressing things one could say about flowers. Charles straightened his back and the plate was steady again in his hand. Every fibre of his body relaxed in relief. With slightly more confidence he walked around the table to Lord Grantham. Next to him sat a man with dark hair and a rather pointy chin. While putting food on his plate Lord Grantham talked to him: "I hope you will join us for the hunt tomorrow, Lord Cunningham. We'd be delighted, wouldn't we, Robert?"

A boy of 17 or 18 years, who seemed to have been in thoughts, looked at Lord Grantham. "Yes", he said, "Yes, of course. Unfortunately I cannot call myself a good shot, but I have always enjoyed watching people who are." Lord Cunningham smiled at him and said: "It is all just a matter of practice, young man. Take your time!" Lord Grantham nodded in agreement. "Well said, Lord Cunningham!"

Charles moved along serving one after another. Next to the boy, Master Robert, sat a young man with blonde hair and a constant smile on his face. The young lady next to him, who he learned was Lady Rosamund Crawley, addressed him as Lord Bowen. "Lady Rosamund, would you care to pay me a visit when you are in London?", he asked. Unfortunately she seemed less interested in conversation than he was. After exchanging glances with Lady Grantham, however, she kept the conversation going, polite but just as uncomfortable as her mother was.

Next to her sat a young man, who supposedly was James Crawley, Lord Grantham's Nephew. He sometimes released Lady Rosamund from her awkward company, but for most of the evening kept talking to Master Robert. "Have you hear of that power station in Manhattan?", he asked, "It's producing electricity for 59 customers."

Robert answered: "Yes, I've heard of it, but I still don't understand what all the fuss is about. I mean, what is this electricity? How does it even work?"

Charles kept serving all the guests, returned to set down the plate and stood in line with the other footmen. He waited and watched. Lady Grantham's forced smile left her face more and more every second. She started to avoid the Dowager by entering other conversations on the table. Her interest lay particularly in the conversation between Lady Rosamund and Lord Bowen, but she did not seem pleased with what she heard.

"But Rosamund, don't you agree with Lord Bowen?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I don't. I think it is foolish to say, nothing will change. Whether you like it or not is a different thing, but denying it and pretending there was nothing is ridiculously foolish."

"Rosamund, don't say something like that, before people start to think you are serious."

"But I am", she said and stood up. The men at the table raised immediately. "If you will excuse me, I would like to go to bed. Being set up with a potential husband is immensely tiring!", she said and left the room.

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Lady Grantham stared at the door, through which Lady Rosamund had left. Charles had trouble identifying the expression on her face, but shock was probably the most fitting. Searching for a new topic of conversation to distract the guests from what had just happened she looked around the room. Her glance resting on Charles she said: "Is this the new footman?"

Mr. Young stepped forward and nodded in reply. "Yes, milady. This is Charles."

Charles was uncomfortable, but he was sure it would be over now. He was wrong.

"Well, he looks like a good man", she said.

Charles decided it was best to say a view words. "Thank you, milady! I am more than honoured to be able to work here."

"Oh", she said. That had caught her attention. "And where have you worked before?"

Charles swallowed, not sure how to answer without actually answering. "I worked in London, milady, and before that I had worked here… as a hall boy", he said.

She seemed delighted giving her guests something to discuss at the table. Charles was happy to see that they no longer cared about him, but more about the fact he had worked here before. While the family and their guests discussed whether hall boys should train as footmen later on, Charles received a not so pleased glance from Mr. Young.

He walked over to him and said quietly, so only he could hear it: "I would like to have a word with you in my pantry after the servant's dinner. And get yourself another livery, boy. The stains might not be visible on the outside, but their sole existence is shameful enough for a servant of this family."


	3. A Butler's Words

Throughout the servant's dinner Charles did not feel well. He knew that maybe he could have done better answering Lady Grantham's question, but was his past as a hall boy really that shameful? If so, he thought, Mr. Young probably would have died of a heart attack, had Charles spoken of his past in London. _Well done, Charlie_, he told himself, _your first day and probably your last._ But would Mr. Young really kick him out because of that?

Once they had finished, Mr Young gave him a long strict glance and raised from the table. Charles did the same and with a little distance followed the butler into his pantry. Mr. Young sat down at his desk and sighed, giving him a sign to shut the door behind him. Charles did as he was told and stood straight in front of Mr. Young's desk. The butler sat there for a moment without saying a word, while Charles waited patiently. Then Mr. Young started to speak.

"I will be honest with you, boy", he started with a calm voice, "I am not sure what to do with you. Your behaviour at dinner was anything but fitting. Speaking of hall boys… while the family is eating." He shook his head.

Charles came a step closer. The proper thing to do now was to apologize. "I am more than sorry for this incident. I did not mean to treat the family with anything but the proper respect they deserve. I would not have mentioned it if… ", he paused trying to find his courage, "If there had been any other way of answering her Ladyship's question and talking about my previous work without embarrassing the family."

Mr. Young looked at him. He had his strict face on again, so Charles could neither tell what he was thinking nor how he would react. "The thing is", he began, "while I believe your behaviour was quite disrespectful, and it undoubtedly was, her Ladyship expressed her gratitude for, as she called it, 'saving' the dinner. "

He couldn't believe how one moment changed everything. Just a few minutes ago he was sure he would lose his job and now he was told of Lady Grantham's gratitude. "I am… relieved her Ladyship did not take it as a sign of disrespect", he said, looking almost a bit too happy.

Mr. Young leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. His glance had changed. It felt as if he knew everything about Charles just by looking at him. "Tell me, boy, and don't even try telling anything but the truth; you haven't trained as a footman, not professionally at least, have you?"

Charles was shocked. How could Mr. Young know? How could anyone know? And how could he have been foolish enough to think it was possible to work at a place like Downton without anyone finding out that he had only trained for three months in London before leaving with a decent reference to join a theatre group.

"I have", he said, pausing to think about what to say, "But not for long." Again Mr. Young just looked at him without saying anything.

"May I ask something, Mr. Young?" The butler nodded. "How do you know?", Charles asked.

One corner of Mr. Young's mouth lifted slightly and for a moment Charles thought he had seen a smile on his face. He answered: "You did well, I have to give you that much credit. I doubt many people would notice."

"But you did", Charles said, his curiosity stronger than the fear for his job, "How?"

"You lean forward too much, have trouble holding heavy plates steady and I know Lawrence gave you a little advice. I do not approve of you not telling me of your lacking experience, but we are in need of a footman and you have potential. We have been training Timothy for two years now and he still falls out of his posture from time to time. You can make a good footman, but certainly not in this livery," he said pointing at Charles' clothes, "Which brings me to my next point. Have you found another one that fits you?"

Charles was confused, but still quite flattered by Mr. Young's compliment. He had indeed looked through all the liveries again, only to find that the one he was wearing was in fact one of the best-looking ones. He answered: "I have and unfortunately many of them are in a condition that is not acceptable for a dinner like tonight's… or any dinner for that matter."

The butler leaned back into his chair again. "I was afraid that would be the case. Well, we'll have to give some new ones in order. You certainly cannot go on wearing this one. I don't know a lot about where you worked before and what you were doing, nor do I want to know as long as it does not involve any illegal activities, in which case it would be your duty to tell me…"

Mr. Young sometimes had these moments, when he kept on talking about something different from what he originally meant to say, only to come back to it ten minutes later. This habit of his made it hard to follow. Charles had known from his days as a hall boy, and he certainly remembered now. Mr. Young kept on talking.

"But I assume that is not the case, because if it were so, there is no way I could leave you in service. Not because I would fear you could go on or go back to doing it, maybe partly because of that, but mainly because we as servants have duties. Duties like our daily tasks, yes, but the one duty you should always remember is, that you work for this family, and as such it is your foremost duty is to represent the family in the best way possible."

He said the last sentence with a lot of emphasis. The butler's calm voice had changed to a strong one filled with pride. That was when Charles realised that it was this pride that gave Mr. Young his strong appearance and the dignity he was radiating at all times, but even more whenever he was upstairs or in the village.

"I will not forget it", Charles said, "Never in my life!"


End file.
